


The Flames of the West in the Chains of the Damned

by RedRaptorWritten



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Incorrect Quotes, I’m adding tags as I go, Literally so many of those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25572103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRaptorWritten/pseuds/RedRaptorWritten
Summary: A woman’s stillborn daughter gets an offer from a demon who used to live in the Old West to punish those who get no justice. She accepts and lives as an avenger against the powerful who take advantage of others.Later in her life, she gets mistaken for a mutant by Charles Xavier, but goes along with him anyway, and meets the others. She trains with the others to fight Shaw, and her story continues from there.I don’t own Marvel.





	The Flames of the West in the Chains of the Damned

Picture a small town in the Old West. Somewhere in the northeastern part of what we now know as Arizona, close to New Mexico. Railroads crisscross just outside a small pasture where the horses are kept, who were all used to the sound of the train horn by now, save for a few newly acquired ones. One of which, was an old horse. Who had traveled many a trail in the desert and near the mountains, but still held a strong gait, if not a little slower than he used to be. With his saddle still on after a long ride, he was getting annoyed as it became sunset. His tack always came off near sunset, so where was his rider?

Where indeed. The answer to that question would be outside, a ways away from the pasture, on the ground, bleeding out. He’d been shot off his horse, who had been brought into the pasture while the dying cowboy was dealt with. The men who had shot at him dragged him along the dirt road with a rope tied under his arms. Blood draining out of wounds across his torso. Involuntary grunts of pain escaping past his lips as he was headed towards the gallows.

The bounty on his head was placed long ago. He was an old man. As old as you could be in the west with still being able to outdraw many men. The classic, rough black and white drawing with a reward. Alive, or maybe dead. Definitely dead. That seemed to be what these men were going for. They didn’t even care that, in another life, they might have agreed with the riders actions. But that wasn’t the case, they were in this for the money.

Cowboys such as the rider considered themselves good men. They went after the worst of the worst. Those who care none about the lives of people, and see them as things to be exploited. The worst, who, just so happened to be the men with money. Money enough to place quite a large bounty on a man who killed people like them.

The rope that was under the riders arms and across his chest loosened then tightened to be around his neck. Not as long as ropes usually were in the Gallows. The short drop would make sure that he was strangled, aside from a longer drop, that might’ve mercifully broken his neck.

His body stopped twitching as the sun went down. Casting colors on the underside of the clouds. The beauty unfit in a morbid scene such as it was. Beauty unseen by the rider, but the horse saw it, as well as the barrel of a gun belonging to one of the bounty collectors.

  
  



End file.
